


A Winter in Winhill

by Fearharte



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-11-02 06:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fearharte/pseuds/Fearharte
Summary: A basic coffee shop AU.--“Charming me isn’t going to work if you’re a Galbadian spy, just to let you know,” Seifer murmured softly, causing Squall’s fingers to twitch on his jaw.“...Same goes to you.”“So you're saying it could work as long as I'm not Galbadian?” Seifer asked with a cocky grin. Squall gave him a flat, unimpressed look. He swiped the gauze against Seifer's wound a little roughly, causing Seifer to wince.“Oops,” Squall deadpanned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is such a cliche AU. I really like fictional coffee shops. 
> 
> I'll just admit it now: the Galbadian spy subplot is just a vehicle for the romance, I don't have anything super exciting planned for that, so don't get too invested in the details. Also, it's been 15 years since I last completed the game (my favorite game), so if the geography or monster details are wrong, well...I'm old now. Sorry.
> 
> I'm writing this as I post, so I don't really know where it's going.
> 
> Squall is 28 and Seifer is 29 here, and this is a full AU, barely canon compliant. I tried to keep them as in character as possible while also accounting for their maturity and different circumstances. Hopefully it feels true to them.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing except romantic dreams.

The first time Seifer walked into the small, dark coffee shop in Winhill, he was hit with a warm comfort he hadn't felt before in his whole life, not even as a kid with his favorite caretaker at the orphanage. It was a chilled gray afternoon outside, weather that smelled like rain and the edge of winter. But inside it was glowing gold, lamplight reflecting off polished dark wood surfaces. A very soft melody floated in the air, entwined with a pleasant scents of fresh ground coffee and aromatic teas.

Despite how relaxed he was, years of SeeD training took over and he flicked his gaze around the room to get a quick survey of the occupants. A couple sat at a small table near the window, a man on his laptop was on an armchair toward the back, and a single barista was polishing mugs behind the counter. 

Seifer’s eyes lingered on the barista. He was a lean man with dark hair and fair features, and Seifer had a very unsettling feeling that he has been sized up before he even registered the barista's presence. That was unusual and unpleasant. Few people ever got the jump on him and he had ultimately overpowered them in the end. This guy behind the bar seemed reserved and unconcerned in a way that suggested he rarely saw anyone else as a threat, a very strange attitude for an effeminate coffee shop barista to have.

Seifer approached the counter casually, a cocky tilt to his chin as he watched the barista. When he stopped in front of the register and the barista still didn't look up from his stack of mugs, Seifer cleared his throat, loudly. The barista ignored him for several more seconds, but just before Seifer spoke up, sharp blue eyes locked onto his, startling him with their intensity. Seifer felt his jaw clench and he swallowed involuntarily. His brows furrowed slightly, unsettled even more by this strange man. 

And up close, he was clearly a man. He may have had fair features, but his forearms, exposed by his rolled up sleeves, were strong and lined with quiet power in his muscles and tendons. His hands were artful, but his grip on the mug hinted at skills he wouldn't have learned in a coffee shop. His shoulders were well defined under his black turtleneck sweater, suggesting the chest hidden by his apron was equally toned. The apron was tied neatly around his waist and unfortunately, the counter blocked everything below the top of his slim hips.

“What?” His cold voice snapped Seifer out of his analysis, though it only offered more distraction. It was a strong, no-bullshit voice that Seifer suddenly needed to hear wrecked.

Seifer shook off a chill at the idea of that voice and those eyes changing in darkly wonderful ways, and offered a wicked grin. The barista didn't react.

“Cold out there. What do you recommend that's good to warm up?” Seifer asked, looking up at the menu over the barista's head.

“...Coffee.”

Seifer glanced back down and raised an eyebrow at the barista. Bit of a son of a bitch, wasn't he?

“You have thirty options on the board and plain coffee isn't one of them,” Seifer said, folding his arms. He disliked difficult people, no matter how gorgeous they were.

The barista sighed and finally put this mug and cloth down, then settled one hand on his hip and glared at Seifer.

“It's all good. If it wasn't, I wouldn't sell it.”

“Well, what's your favorite?” Seifer felt his patience thinning. 

“I don't drink coffee.”

Seifer blinked at him and the barista stared straight back, unwavering.

“You don't drink a single damned thing off this menu?” Seifer asked flatly.

“I didn't say that,” The barista said, emotionless.

Seifer felt his temper rising. All he wanted was a goddamn recommendation and this fucker was the worst customer service clerk in the world.

“What is your favorite drink on the menu?” Seifer asked slowly and carefully, his anger building with every word. He no longer wanted to wreck this guy in the bedroom, he wanted to wreck him on the battlefield.

The barista stared at him silently for a long moment and Seifer stared right back, not willing to back down from finding out this guy's damn favorite drink now that he was being so difficult in sharing it.

“...Iced tea.”

Seifer's jaw slid to the side as he ran his tongue over his back molars. It was 35 degrees outside and he had specified a hot drink, and now this fucking jackass was-

Smirking. He was smirking. He turned away to get another mug, and Seifer saw it just at the last second, the corner of his lip tilted up.

He wasn't being social inept, he was playing with him.

That motherfucker.

Just as Seifer opened his mouth to make a nasty comment, the front door opened and he saw the barista shift almost imperceptibly, discreetly assessing the newcomer. Seifer raised his eyebrow. The barista was military. 

Something in the barista's demeanor changed when he saw the new arrival. It was hard to define. He didn't become guarded like it was a threat, but his body language became even less friendly, if that was possible. His movements were stiff and automatic. 

Seifer glanced at the man near the door to see a slight family resemblance. The older man still had the happy appearance of youth to him, despite the wrinkles around his eyes. He wore his long hair tied back in a ponytail. He had the same general frame as the barista, but seemed softer and less severe. Or maybe more careless.

The barista turned back to Seifer and set a large mug on the counter in front of him, full of a dark, creamy looking drink. It smelled sweet and enticing, and a gentle steam wafted up.

“Here.” The barista said without looking at him again, then turned away just as the older man reached the counter.

“I'm back!”

The barista tugged his apron string and slipped the fabric away in a fluid moment, dropping it onto a hook near the back office door.

“Whatever.” He said, and then disappeared from sight.

Seifer picked up the mug and took a sip as he glanced at the disappointed older man who was staring at the back door that the barista clearly wasn't coming back through for a while. When he tasted the hot spiced dark chocolate, he felt that same chill that had shaken him earlier, only now instead of a eyes and a voice, he had to shake off thoughts of the taste of a bitterly sweet mouth.

\--

Seifer was scheduled to be in Winhill for three weeks, and at first, he was pissed off about the whole arrangement. The mission was to keep an eye on the place, per orders of the president of Esthar after rumors arose of galbadian forces moving through the country. Tensions had been high lately with the Deling president, and Esthar’s president, some ex soldier elected by the people for his humanitarian efforts, marked Winhill as a special location that needed extra security.

Why, Seifer had no idea. When he, Fujin, and Raijin showed up, they found a tiny town with barely enough people to warrant having a single shopping plaza. They were undercover as graduate students on fall holiday, but that act wasn't going to last a full three weeks. Either Cid was an idiot with backstories or he expected things to escalate before then. Which was fine by Seifer. Let the bastards come, he wanted to face a challenge and Galbadia was rumored to have some of the best soldiers in the world. He'd tear them apart.

However, by the third day, it seemed absolutely nothing was going to happen. Ordinarily Seifer would have been bored out of his mind. He and his team were staying at a tiny inn near the entrance of town and there was fuck all to do. They spent exactly one afternoon “sightseeing” and that covered the entire town.

The only thing that was amusing him for now was the brunet barista who had given him the best hot chocolate he'd ever had in his life, on the house.

Seifer had left after sitting a while to relax and finish his drink that first day, taking note that the barista never did reappear, though the older man had left rather dejectedly. Whoever owned the place must have been pretty damn tolerant to put up with a guy who had the social aptitude of a brat going through puberty.

The coffee shop opened early in the morning and stayed open until late at night, Seifer noted. He didn't visit again until that third, painfully boring day, wondering if he could get under the barista's skin the way he had gotten under his. However, when he walked in and scanned the room - five patrons that day, all male - he was annoyed to see a pretty blonde woman behind the counter, smiling at a customer who was lingering a little too long at the register. 

Not wanting to stand out by immediately leaving without ordering something, and also wanting a drink to warm his hands after taking a surveillance stroll around the town, he got in line and made an impatient noise until the lingering customer got the hint and moved on.

“Hello,” the blonde barista said pleasantly. “What can I get you today?” 

It irritated him that she spoke as if he was here all the time. Today? She had never seen him before. Couldn't she even tell her customers apart?

“An Americano,” he said, not feeling like flirting. He glanced at the back door as the woman pressed a few buttons on the register.

“Hey, there was a guy here last time I stopped in,” Seifer said, trying not to be too obvious. 

“Hm? Do you mean Zell?” The woman asked. Seifer glanced at her apron and saw a name tag. Quistis. The guy the other day definitely hadn't been wearing a tag. Probably did that on purpose to be more annoying.

“I didn't get his name. Dark hair, attitude like someone poured salt instead of sugar in his cocoa.”

“Oh. Squall.” Squall. He had a name. Remembering those eyes, Seifer decided the name suited him well. “Sorry about him, he's not unfriendly…he's just quiet.”

Her tone wasn't convincing at all, just a little too upbeat to really sell the lie. Seifer lifted an eyebrow at her and she blushed a little, her smile strained.

“Do you…need to file a complaint?”

Seifer frowned. “No.” He didn't want to get the guy in trouble. He just…wanted to see him again. Not that he wanted to tell this woman that. He pulled out his wallet and offered her the required Gil without another comment. When his Americano came out, he found it too bitter even though it tasted the same as it always did when he ordered it back home in Balamb. 

\---

“Squall!” That familiar scolding tone made Squall close his eyes while reading his newspaper and for a brief moment he wondered if he should try climbing out the office window. It wouldn't stop the harassment, though, just prolong it, so instead of bolting for the latch, he opened his eyes again and turned the page, continuing the article he was reading about a rebellion growing in Deling.

“Squall, I'm talking to you.” Quistis said, her patience obviously thinning.

“I noticed.” Squall turned the page again, this time just to annoy her.

“Another customer complained about you.”

“So what?”

“So you're sabotaging your own business! I would like to keep my job, thank you very much.”

Squall sighed, scanning the weather forecast. Might snow soon, he noted, seeing the temperatures drop into the low 30s.

“Well what was it this time?”

“This blond guy said your attitude was as if someone poured salt in your cocoa. What did you say to him?”

Blond guy? Cocoa? Squall lowered the paper enough to look at Quistis over it. She seemed serious, as she always did, and Squall frowned.

Then he snapped the newspaper back up to block her from view.

“Nothing. He asked stupid questions so I gave him smart answers.” Squall hadn't expected him to complain. Quistis was the one to sigh this time.

“Listen, can you just try to be friendly?”

Squall folded his newspaper and dropped it onto his desk as he stood up.

“Whatever.”

“Oh, also, your dad stopped by. He seemed really bummed. Don't you think you should greet him? He's usually only in town for a couple days, right?” Quistis asked, removing her apron and folding it into a neat square.

“Mind your own business, Quistis,” Squall said, his earlier pleasantness despite being scolded disappearing with the mention of his father.

He left through the office door, ignoring anything else Quistis might have to say as he went to start his usual evening shift.

\--

The next day, Seifer changed his routine and came back to the coffee shop in the evening, after a twilight patrol. Fujin and Raijin had tried to join him this time and he had to shake them off, giving them the order, as their squad leader, to do some covert surveillance in the hotel lobby instead. They spent all damn day together, they could give him a break to go to a coffee shop for a couple hours by himself.

This time, he looked for the barista first, and caught the stoic young man checking him before he could look away fast enough. Military. Definitely. Well trained, too. Seifer looked at him in a new light and saw the arrangement of the room. Select windows were purposefully kept clear of furniture. If a fight were to break out, everyday items that could be used as weapons were well within the barista's reach - a broom, the handle made out of metal; a pair of scissors held securely in the pocket of his apron; a strange arrangement of mugs that could be grabbed from any direction. The rafter above the barista's head looked to be reinforced, weight bearing. And Seifer suspected there was even more around the shop that he couldn't see.

The place was busy tonight, a crowd of high schoolers studied for an exam in the corner while other patrons filled nearly all the other seats. It was Sunday night, so he supposed people were clinging to their dwindling free time before the work week started again. He spotted one free arm chair in the back and went to drop his gray trench coat over it, revealing his darker gray turtleneck, before going to the counter. This time the barista looked up at him immediately, and Seifer wanted to see him in action, wanted to see his muscles tighten and his expertise turn this place into a battlefield that he knew better than any lover.

“What would you like?” The barista - Squall, he didn't forget - asked, placing both hands on the counter and leaning as if bracing himself. Seifer lifted his chin a little suspiciously.

“No wisecracks today?”

“Those are just a Thursday special,” Squall deadpanned. Seifer snorted softly and looked up at the menu.

“Well, what's good?” Seifer asked hoping to irritate the man a bit. He glanced back down to catch Squall briefly closing his eyes in annoyance. Seifer smirked, then frowned when Squall looked up at him.

“The vanilla latte is most popular.”

“You're awfully cooperative today.”

Squall glared at him, then straightened up and folded his arms.

“Yeah well, gotta make sure customers don't complain.”

His tone made Seifer’s frown deepen and it dawned on him that the pretty blonde might have been the owner of the shop. Shit. He never meant to get him in trouble.

Still, something about the man stopped him from apologizing. He didn't look like he was worried about getting in trouble again. He looked like an angry cat and Seifer wanted to rile him up more.

“Maybe fewer people would complain if you smiled more. Or at all.”

“We serve coffee, not smiles,” Squall replied automatically, as if he had heard this before. 

“And you don't even serve that.”

Squall fell silent and glared up at Seifer, then he turned away and stalked to the corner of his bar. Seifer watched in interest as he pulled out a stool and set it under the menu. Then he slipped his hand into his apron pocket and pulled out a white marker. Seifer realized then that the black menu with beautiful script was all hand written. Squall stepped up onto the stool, giving Seifer a very rewarding view of his ass in black jeans - did this guy only ever wear black? - and swooped his writing into a free spot on the board, perfectly matching the other items listed. 

Coffee. 2 Gil. 

Squall capped the marker and returned it to his pocket, jumped off the stool, put it back, washed his hands, and returned to the register, his expression the same as if nothing had happened.

“Are you allowed to do that?” Seifer asked, still surprised.

“I'm allowed to do whatever I want,” Squall said, folding his arms.

Seifer blinked and then put the pieces together. 

“You're the owner.”

Squall stayed silent and kept glaring at him

Seifer huffed a little laugh and felt way less bad about his comment being taken as a complaint before. 

“Do you even have a coffee pot?”

“If it's on the menu, I can make it.”

Seifer grinned and leaned his hip against the counter. Something in Squall’s eyes calmed down and Seifer felt something in his veins rush. That strange relaxation he felt when he first walked in on that first day was back. It made him want to take a risk.

“What if what I want still isn't on the menu?” It was a corny line and he didn't even mean it. When Seifer was interested in someone, he at least made sure they knew his name first. But he wanted a reaction, any kind that wasn't a glare.

It was barely a twitch, but Seifer saw it. The barest fraction of Squall's eyes widening. Otherwise his face remained completely still. That alone would have been disappointing, but a soft flush of color spread across Squall's cheeks and nose, faint but so fucking delicious looking that Seifer felt the rest of the coffee shop fall away from his senses. 

“I can make you whatever you want.” Squall's voice wasn’t softer by any means, he said it plainly as if they were only discussing coffee, but something was in it that had Seifer’s grin slipping. He felt mesmerized and wanted to move into the other man's space, and probably would have if it weren't for the damn bar separating him.

“Um, excuse me?” A young girl’s voice interrupted their heated staring contest. Seifer straightened quickly, but Squall simply turned as if nothing had been going on between them. Which was bullshit. There was no way in hell Seifer was the only one who was affected by that exchange.

“Can I get a hot chocolate, please?” The girl, one of the students, asked. Squall rang her up silently, which the girl seemed used to, then turned away to work quickly. The mug he set in front of her when he was done looked nothing like the dark, heady drink Seifer had received the other day. It looked and smelled like standard hot chocolate.

“Thanks!” The girl chimed, then returned to her study group with her drink in hand.

Instead of returning to Seifer, Squall turned to start cleaning his station. 

“Hey.” Seifer said, watching Squall's quick, strong hands slide a cloth up and down the shaft of the milk steaming machine. Seifer swallowed. 

Squall ignored him and moved on to another task. Seifer decided to change tactics. He wanted the upper hand again. Wanted to see that blush again.

“Squall.” 

Squall stopped what he was doing but didn't look up for several seconds, then gave Seifer the most gorgeous look he had ever seen in his life. Seifer leaned on the bar for support.

“Come here,” Seifer murmured, his voice low and smooth, his eyes locked in stormy blue. Squall put his cloth down and approached Seifer, leaning a hip against his side of the bar, arms folded over his chest. Seifer stared at him for a long moment before speaking up.

“Give me your favorite, to go.” 

Squall hesitated the barest fraction, then grabbed a paper cup and pulled a black marker out of his pocket.

“Name?” Squall asked, as if he didn't care.

“Seifer.” Seifer spelled it out for him. A few moments later, Squall held out the warm cup. This time Seifer hesitated, recognizing that Squall wasn't just setting the cup on the counter. He reached out to accept it, letting his middle finger slide innocently but slowly against Squall's. He felt a rush of anxiety, worried he had pressed it too far with this stranger when Squall's expression didn't even flicker, but instead of just letting go, Squall slid his hand away, letting his finger trail against Seifer's. 

Seifer leaned in over the counter and felt heat climb up his face when Squall didn't pull back. 

“When do you get off?” 

\--

Squall’s body was full of hot electricity that he was barely managing to control. Seifer was leaning into his space over the counter and Squall felt himself drifting closer as well. Seifer had his mouth close to Squall's ear and his jaw was near Squall's mouth. He smelled like warm pine and wood smoke. 

Squall's gaze stayed on the crowd in the room over Seifer's shoulder. No one was paying any attention to them at all, each wrapped up in their own conversations and concerns. He could tell from their body language that no one even glanced at them. 

“When do you get off?” Seifer's voice was deep and soft, sending a chill along Squall's neck that he tried hard not to show. Fuck, he was acting like a fucking teenager. For all he knew, this fucker was a Galbadian spy. He could tell he was at least military. But god damn he wanted to lick that jawline.

Squall stayed silent a moment, his favorite default to not knowing what to say. He turned his head just enough to meet Seifer's eye, trying to read him. Green eyes, ones that meant trouble. Ones that meant a challenge. Heat rushed through his body and against his better judgement, he opened his mouth to answer.

“This isn't a club,” Squall said, murmuring low into Seifer's ear. He felt Seifer's fingers twitch toward his, both their hands resting close together on the counter, touching him again in a cautious, inquiring way, and that tiny irresistible movement made Squall want to torment him. Oh this man was definitely trouble, but Squall was trouble too. 

Squall leaned in closer, letting his breath trace Seifer's skin. He got so close, he almost kissed the place where his jaw meet his neck and he heard Seifer swallow. As if finishing his sentence from a moment ago, Squall said a single word, his voice intimate and lovely. “Seifer.”

Seifer failed to hide his chill this time and he slid his fingers against Squall's sensuously.

At that exact moment, the front door blew open with a slam. 

\--

If Seifer had any question about Squall's background before, it disappeared in the bang of the coffee shop door. Caught off guard from his distraction, Squall reacted harshly, defense training kicking in hard before his mind could catch up to what the “threat” was. The brunet moved so fast, Seifer almost didn't see Squall retrieve the gunblade from a latched compartment under the bar. He kept it hidden behind the counter, but his stance was ready to throw himself over the bar and meet his threat head to head. 

“Oops, sorry!” A slightly familiar voice called out, and Seifer turned to see the same older man as the other night, wrapped up in two scarves and a knitted cap, fumbling with the door against the wind. The crowd in the coffee shop was startled but slowly returned to their conversations, unaware of their resident barista's actions just out of sight.

“Tch.” The noise from Squall was almost inaudible, but Seifer was still close enough to hear it. A swift movement had Squall's gunblade stowed away again and he reached under the bar with a key to lock the compartment.

Squall turned and headed out the back door without even glancing at Seifer, ignoring the older man calling his name cheerfully.

Seifer sighed in annoyance and took a sip from his drink. He was surprised this time by a soft vanilla flavor, warm and touched with cinnamon, no hint of coffee but absolutely delicious.

He wanted to know if Squall's mouth tasted the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for the kudos and comments. I'm too timid to reply, but I appreciate each one.
> 
> This chapter is just really indulgent. 
> 
> Also, the kind of magic Squall uses later on is the innate, base-level kind - I found sources saying people can cast some magic without a GF, so let's just go with it, okay?
> 
> Also also, this chapter has explicit sex.

“I just think we oughta tell Cid he's wasting our talent here, ya know?” Raijin said as they patrolled the woods in the darkness around Winhill. It was a routine scouting, making sure nothing was out of the ordinary such as signs of camps or traps.

“ORDERS.”

“I know they're our orders, Fuj, but we've been here almost a week and nothing is going on. And now Cid is talking about extending our assignment, ya know?”

Seifer ran his tongue over his back molars, trying to listen to the forest over Fujin and Raijin’s chatter. He was in the mood to fight and he was hoping to catch anything out here that might be a challenge, even if it was just dumb monster.

“Seifer, what do you think about this?” Raijin asked, stopping beside him as Seifer pulled a box of cigarettes out of his coat pocket. 

Seifer glanced at Raijin as he put a cigarette between his lips, then pulled out a lighter and lit it. He put everything away again before answering.

“I think you're too damn noisy. If something decides to attack us, I want to hear it coming,” Seifer said, dragging a breath through his cigarette. 

“TOO EASY.” Fujin said, causing Seifer to smirk. She wasn't one to joke often.

“Yeah, well…” Seifer trailed off and lifted his chin, glancing at his teammates to confirm they heard the rustle, too. They all readied their weapons wordlessly and melted into the shadows, Seifer keeping his cigarette lit mostly because he agreed with Fujin that being too good at his job would be no fun. He watched from the shadow of a large pine tree and drew a deep breath through his cigarette, letting it flare up bright red.

Suddenly a trexaur burst into the clearing, causing Seifer to furrow his brows. Before he could call back Fujin and Raijin, they both charged into the confrontation, and a knife was pressed against his throat.

“Don't move,” a soft, pleasantly familiar voice exhaled against his ear. “Drop the gunblade.”

Seifer lifted both hands, one empty and the other holding up his weapon in a sign of no resistance. But he didn't drop it.

“I said drop it,” Squall whispered, then yanked Seifer's hair back, exposing more of his throat, while kicking out his knees, forcing Seifer to drop into a kneel. The gunblade stayed firmly gripped in his hands. 

“I need to tap my cigarette,” Seifer mumbled good naturedly around the stick.

“Seifer, where'd you go?!” Raijin called out, moving farther away as he and Fujin dealt with the trexaur. Squall let go of Seifer's hair to gently pluck the cigarette from his mouth. Seifer kept his mouth open to receive the cigarette again, but Squall placed it between his own lips and made a tsking sound.

“Cheap brand.”

He was ready when Seifer moved, whirling and lifting, facing Squall with his gunblade raised to meet the knife he was very glad was a bluff after all. Despite that being the case, Squall shifted and drew his own gunblade in a swift movement, the knife disappearing somewhere. He attacked Seifer and there was no bluff here now that they were on equal ground.

Clashing metal sang out into the dark night, drowned out sporadically by the roar of the trexaur. Both men met slash for slash, their bodies moving in a heated dance of near death. Leaves were kicked up, causing unstable footing, the trees around them serving as both cover and a hindrance. Seifer pressed into Squall and drove him back, only for the brunet to prove his strength and return the assault. At some point, Squall smothered the cigarette in his hand and tossed it away, and then the fight turned serious.

“Who are you?” Squall asked, shoving Seifer up against a tree with the force of their blades. Seifer grinned at him, a gleam in his eye.

“I should be asking you that question. Did you bring that trexaur here?”

Squall smirked. “No, I just saw a good opportunity to show you how distracted you are. Who the hell trained you?”

Seifer pushed free, swept a leg out, dropped Squall to his back with the grace to knock the gunblade aside so it wouldn't strike him, and knelt on Squall's chest to stop his attempt to get up. He rested the tip of his gunblade in the earth like a staff.

“The best.” Seifer said smugly, giving a cocky half smile down into Squall's glaring face. His smile faltered when Squall tilted his chin slightly, exposing that pale throat while he looked up at Seifer through hooded eyes. Something in Squall's heavy breathing shifted, somehow seemed more sensual. Seifer felt Squall’s fingers trace the inner thigh of the leg on his chest. Then suddenly Squall thrust his hips up and flipped Seifer hard onto his back, managing to knock his gunblade away from them. Squall straddled him, pressing that damned knife to his throat again and Seifer growled in anger at the new situation.

“Who are you?” Squall demanded again.

“Like it matters what I say, kill me if you're going to kill me.” Seifer bit out, his Adam's apple pressing against the knife.

“Impressive posturing. Tell me who you are or I won't kill you, I'll turn you in as a Galbadian spy,” Squall said, his voice rough and commanding. 

“I'm not Galbadian,” Seifer snapped.

“Oh I know. A Galbadian wouldn't be in this position.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

Seifer bucked his hips up hard at that, knocking Squall forward and forcing him to brace his free hand next to Seifer's head. Suddenly the knife was much lower, lined up perfectly with a body part Seifer felt more protective of than his throat.

Though he became much more careful with his movements, Seifer still refused to speak, and Squall started digging through his pockets with his free hand. When Seifer moved to grab his wrists, Squall rubbed the knife up the length of his dick, meeting his eyes when he felt how hard he was.

Seifer grinned at Squall when he raised an eyebrow at that.

“I can feel yours too, you know,” Seifer said huskily. “Now tell me why I should believe you're not a Galbadian spy yourself.”

“Cause I'm the one with the knife at your dick.”

“That convinces me you _ are _ a spy. What are you, Trabia? Private military?”

\--

Squall hesitated staring down at the blond man beneath him. His breathing was controlled, though still labored, and he was laying as calmly as if they were sitting on a bed and Squall didn't have a knife to his groin.

He shouldn't trust this man. He had been getting reports of Galbadian movement along the border for some time, and if one of them found out who he was, he'd be used as a pawn, as much as he was loathe to admit it. 

Still, something in his eyes called to him, made him feel dangerous and reliable all at the same time. He should get up and take him straight into custody. But instead he heard himself speak.

“Ex-Estharian military,” Squall said and couldn't stop the smug lift to his lips when he saw Seifer's eyes widen. 

“Esthar?” Seifer asked, as if he didn't hear right, but before Squall could answer, an ear splinting roar erupted around them and a trexaur came breaking through the trees.

Without regard for the knife at his waist, Seifer swept up and wrapped his arms around Squall's back and head, then rolled them over twice to avoid a slash of claws. On his back, Squall looked up at Seifer with eyes wide in surprise. The blond had moved so fast, he didn't even have time to react except to shift the knife so as to not stab either of them. And just as suddenly he was yanked to his feet. He shook free of his daze and took off running after Seifer, both of them diving for their gunblades and turning to face the monster.

Squall might have teased him before about clearly not being Galbadian trained, but Seifer proved he was better. Much better. He rushed into the enemy head first, barreling his gunblade toward the trexaur with such strength that suddenly Squall knew he had been letting him pin him. That knife had meant nothing at his throat or his waist. Squall ran around the trexaur’s other side to flank it, causing distraction and significant damage where its defense was low while Seifer acted as a tank.

Letting out a furious roar, the monster whipped around and lashed out at Squall without warning, causing the brunet to stagger back to avoid a fatal blow to the chest. He regained his footing, but before he could retaliate, another trexaur snapped down toward him from behind, forcing him to dive into a roll. 

Seifer met him halfway between the two beasts and stood directly in front of Squall as he stood up. Then Seifer backed up a little and fell silent, focusing hard, staring down the two monsters on either side of him. Just as Squall was about to step forward again, Seifer threw out his arm and the air around them grew darker, the moon suddenly disappearing. 

Squall braced himself as dozens of bats started whipping around them in a frenzy and within moments, a black mass formed above them. Slowly the Guardian Force Diablos oozed down from the mass. The winged devil reached up for the black sphere he came from and pulled it with pure force to rocket down, drenching the woods in darkness before a blur of colorful glyphs lit the area back up and the powerful attack ended. The trexaurs cried out and one collapsed as Diablos erupted into a cloud of bats again and disappeared. The other trexaur, the new one, stumbled as the noise died down and Squall ran forward to slash its throat. It gurgled and fell, leaving the two young men standing in the silent clearing, panting heavily.

Squall turned to Seifer, eyeing him in confusion as he tried to catch his breath.

“Balamb?” 

Seifer looked at Squall without replying, breathing hard, then looked into the woods behind him. “I have to find my team.”

With that, Seifer took off running and Squall let him, more confused than ever.

\--

Seifer pulled a cloth out of his trench coat pocket and wiped his blade clean in a long smooth motion on both sides before sheathing it on his hip. Fujin and Raijin stood nearby, calling in a report to Xu about the triple trexaur attack in the Winhill woods - not a good sign, no matter what it meant, for monsters not native to the area to be swarming around. 

“BEHIND.” Fujin said as Raijin chattered into the phone, but Seifer already knew the brunet was leaning on the tree behind them. He had been acutely aware of him since halfway through the final fight when he appeared just in time to watch Seifer get slashed down one side of his forehead like it was his first fucking time fighting against a monster. 

Seifer ignored Fujin and Squall, stalking over to Raijin to hold out his hand for the phone. Raijin gave it over midsentence without blinking an eye, used to this kind of brashness from Seifer.

“Xu,” Seifer said and he heard the woman on the line sigh in annoyance. She hated him and hated talking to him after years of his attitude. He turned to glare at Squall, eyeing the cool man critically, knowing he could hear his conversation. “I want a report of the civilians in this town, everything Balamb can get in the records, including arrival dates and visa requests over the past...fifteen years.”

“Why? You’re just there to deal with invasion attempts, not start a witch hunt for spies,” Xu said, clicking her tongue. Seifer knew Balamb likely already had all the details, but it would be a pain to get clearance to send it to him. Everything as a SeeD was very much on a need-to-know basis, and Seifer was aware he didn’t _ need _ to know about Squall or any other resident at this time. But he wanted to.

“Well, it’d be awfully nice to know the townsfolk weren’t plotting to kill me if I revealed myself as SeeD because I had to fight off an unexpected trexaur attack.”

“...Who saw you?” Xu asked, agitation rising in her voice.

“Just some yokal.” Seifer grinned at Squall when the brunet narrowed his eyes at the insult.

“Goddamn it, Seifer, you were sent because you’re supposed to be the best covert SeeD we have, how the hell-”

“If I’m the best and I was still found out, maybe you should pull your head out of your ass and put that down as the justification for the records request,” Seifer said good-naturedly, ignoring the fact that he had not been very covert at all by getting Squall's attention over the past week. He shrugged and shook his head at Squall as if to say ‘red tape - what can you do?’ 

“One of these days, Seifer,” Xu hissed. “I’m going to get you permanently dismissed from this Garden, so help me.”

“Only after I’m dead, sweetheart,” Seifer said, his tone dropping into hostile chilliness. He hung up before Xu could respond again and tossed the phone back to Raijin. 

Seifer grinned at Squall and swept his hair back, careful not to bump the wound on his brow. 

“I could really use a cup of coffee if you’re open.”

\--

Squall watched the exchange between Seifer and whoever he was talking to with mild interest. He couldn’t make out the words on the other end of the call, but he could hear a woman growl in anger every time she had to respond to the blond asshole she clearly didn’t want to be working with.

Seifer’s comrades both stayed silent, neither of them particularly worried that Squall was observing them, as if it didn’t affect their job one way or another - or as if they could take care of him with little effort if they had to. So either they hadn’t noticed he was ex-military or they had and yet still felt overconfident, which wasn’t surprising. It was unlikely they’d guess he was Estharian. Few people ever left that hidden city, especially not soldiers. 

Squall had watched the three of them with a sharp eye as they finished off the last trexaur. They had been a well-oiled machine, only faltering when Seifer’s comrades both noticed Squall appear, letting the target take an unexpected swing at their leader in the brief moment they were distracted. Seifer, for his part, barely staggered under the blow and used it as an opportunity to roast the beast with a fiagra spell against his weak underbelly, followed by a flurry of attacks from his team that ended the fight not long after.

Squall had to admit he was impressed. Balamb was known for fine strategies and skill, but what really pushed them to the top of the world military forces was the fact that they had almost no regard for their own lives or injuries, except in how they would be a lost resource for their Garden. They were trained from a young age - brainwashed, many protesters would claim - as child soldiers that would become near-perfect fighting machines in their adulthood. They could take a blow without a flinch and they would impale themselves on their own sword if they had to kill an enemy behind them.

At least, those were the rumors. And from what Squall could see, it wasn’t too far from the truth. Seifer’s teammates were both also sporting bruises and cuts from their battle, presumably from before Seifer arrived, and both were still flawless in their movements and readiness to meet another surprise attack. Any injuries they received, they received them as part of their plan to fell their enemy.

In a one-on-one fight with either of Seifer’s subordinates, Squall was positive he would still win - Esthar didn’t train soldiers from childhood, but their tactics were still superior, weaving in the best styles from various military influences around the world, but both of them together would be a hard fight. 

He wasn’t positive he could take on Seifer, even alone. Something about that caused a thrill to run through his blood.

When the blond man in question turned to him with a wry grin and a cocky comment about coffee, a bold line of red blood running down the side of his face making his green eyes seem even sharper, almost manic with the pleasure of a battle won, Squall felt his pulse beat hard in his throat. He kept his expression neutral, but inside his heart thumped with something dangerous and dark, his blood humming with a need he had never quite felt like this before, rushing to the surface of his skin as if every nerve was desperate for a fight with the man in front of him, not out here in the woods, but between bedsheets and shadows.

Without a word in reply to Seifer’s request for a damned latte after taking down three trexaurs, Squall pushed away from the tree and walked into the woods, knowing that Seifer and his team would follow back to his shop.

\--

Seifer came out of the bathroom of Squall’s closed coffee shop holding a paper towel to the wound on his forehead. The damned thing was going to need stitches. Fujin and Raijin sat in the far corner of the shop, sipping on warm drinks, already cleaned up and mostly fine after their battle. He could see the tense line of their shoulders and the too-casual crossing of their legs that meant they were on high alert even as they appeared relaxed in the warmth of the cafe. 

Squall stood behind the bar, finishing making two drinks. He looked up when Seifer approached and set one of the mugs in front of a barstool, almost an invite, as if they were about to enter negotiations. 

“Got a first aid kit?” Seifer asked, pointing with his free hand toward the paper towel that was slowly soaking in blood. Squall eyed his forehead, then turned away to wash his hands. He dried them off on a clean towel and then gestured with his head for Seifer to follow him to the back.

Seifer gave Fujin and Raijin a look to stay where they were and not let their guard down, then followed Squall through the door into the back office.

The office was fairly spacious, housing two desks, one of which was covered in personal nicknacks of various kinds - photo frames, little trinkets, magazines, and the like. It looked like a shared space. The other desk was neat and empty of anything personal. Account books stood in a line on one of the shelves in the desk hutch and a calendar sat on the table, along with some pens and notepads, but otherwise it looked too generic to be used regularly. Seifer had a feeling it was the boss’s personal space.

Around the room were the same signs of Squall’s military background that Seifer saw in the cafe - easily accessible items that could double as weapons, heavily reinforced architecture. Two doors in the back were shut and a third was half-open, giving view of a small, rustic kitchen.

“Sit down,” Squall said, pulling his desk chair out. Seifer settled into the soft leather and leaned back as Squall pulled one of his drawers open, retrieving a first aid kit and setting it on the desk. He popped the clasps, revealing an organized set of tools and supplies, well stocked for serious injuries as well as minor wounds.

Seifer lowered his paper towel when Squall pulled open the packaging of a sterile medical wipe. He stood over Seifer and gently lifted his fingers under Seifer’s chin to hold him steady as he tilted his face up and softly swept the moist gauze over his wound. Seifer looked up at him silently, surprised by the contact and the care as the other man worked. Squall’s face was emotionless, but his touch was careful and warm, unexpectedly intimate.

“Charming me isn’t going to work if you’re a Galbadian spy, just to let you know,” Seifer murmured softly, causing Squall’s fingers to twitch on his jaw. 

“...Same goes to you.”

“So you're saying it could work as long as I'm not Galbadian?” Seifer asked with a cocky grin. Squall gave him a flat, unimpressed look. He swiped the gauze against Seifer's wound a little roughly, causing Seifer to wince.

“Oops,” Squall deadpanned. He tossed the bloody gauze into a nearby trashcan and opened a stitching needle and medical thread. He shifted to half-sit on the edge of his desk, turning Seifer in his chair so that he was braced between Squall's legs. 

He leaned forward and cupped Seifer's face with his whole palm, letting his fingers slip into his hair on the back of his neck. Goosebumps rose over Seifer's skin and he watched the brunet’s face carefully as he rested a hand on the top of Squall's thigh. Blue eyes flicked down to Seifer's gaze and Seifer squeezed his thigh slightly.

“Watch yourself,” Squall said, his voice a low threat.

“I’d rather be watching you,” Seifer murmured seductively. Squall clicked his tongue but a pink blush spread across the bridge of his nose.

“Let me concentrate,” Squall said softly, leaning forward again. Seifer closed his eyes as the needle pierced his forehead. Squall pulled the thread through his skin, just over the outer corner of his left eyebrow, with a steady, skilled hand. Seifer smoothed his other hand up Squall’s other thigh, squeezing both gently. “This isn’t letting me concentrate…”

“You can’t manage it?” Seifer asked, sweeping his thumbs back down the inside of Squall’s thighs. Squall shifted slightly to keep Seifer from grazing anywhere more intimate than that. 

“I’m going to stab you in the eye.”

“That’ll definitely be a mood killer,” Seifer said softly, not at all concerned as he slid his hands back toward Squall’s hips, his fingers just grazing the curve of his ass. Squall tugged the thread especially hard, causing Seifer to hiss, but the sound was pleased and Seifer wedged his hands behind Squall’s ass in response, squeezing him hard. 

Seifer opened his eyes and looked up at the other man when he didn’t respond, only slid the needle into him again. Squall glared down at him, his jaw clenched tight. At least Seifer wasn’t dead yet. His heart was thumping in his throat but he couldn’t help pushing his luck. Everything about Squall was tempting him to provoke the man, either into another fight or something much better.

“Why are you in my town?” Squall asked all of a sudden when Seifer licked his lips. He tugged the thread too hard again and Seifer dragged his fingers down the centerline of his ass over his black jeans. Squall spread his knees open a little wider, then shifted to cover the motion. Seifer felt something volatile ignite in his veins, setting his pulse racing with adrenaline. 

“Classified. But it’s obvious, and you know it,” Seifer answered. He released Squall’s ass, smoothing his hands back to the top of his thighs, then carefully traced his thumb up toward his zipper. Seifer felt heat pour through him when he felt the extremely hard cock straining inside of the fabric of Squall’s pants. Squall jerked under his touch and narrowed his eyes as Seifer let his own gaze become hooded, biting his lip as he rubbed his thumb down Squall’s dick and then back up, a soft noise of hunger humming through Seifer’s throat. 

Squall furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw as if trying to resist, focusing back on the wound. He picked up some gauze to clean away the fresh blood that was welling up, then blushed deeply as he slid his hips forward into Seifer’s touch.

“Oh, yes,” Seifer murmured approvingly in response to Squall’s reaction. He took it as permission to keep going and slowly opened the other man’s belt.

“Who hired you?” Squall asked, his voice rough as the metal clasp of his belt opened. He tilted Seifer’s face up so that he wouldn’t be able to easily see what he was doing with his hands anymore and pulled another two stitched through, almost done with the task.

“Classified.” Seifer popped the button open on Squall’s jeans and pulled the zipper down slowly.

“I should kill you right now,” Squall hissed as Seifer stroked him through his boxers. When Squall didn’t stop him, Seifer dragged his fingers along his full length, watching him carefully. A manic thrill ran through him, the absolute danger of his own actions driving him to want more.

“Probably,” Seifer said breathlessly, pulling the waistband of Squall’s boxers down to curl his fingers around his bare cock. Squall bit his bottom lip and glared down at Seifer, his face flushed pink. He pulled one more stitch through his wound, then blindly reached into the first aid box for a pair of small surgical scissors. He clipped the thread free as Seifer stroked him coaxingly, set the needle aside, then the hand in the back of Seifer’s hair gripped the blond strands painfully tight and Squall slashed the scissors toward his throat with an assassin’s skill. 

In a flash, Seifer caught Squall’s wrist to stop the assault and then dipped his head down against his fist in his hair, his lips quickly closing on Squall’s cock, an attack and a victory all at once as Squall moaned and pumped his hips up into Seifer’s mouth. Squall pulled his hair harder and Seifer yanked his pants further down his hips roughly. The scissors clattered to the desk and Squall braced his free hand on Seifer’s shoulder, steadying himself as he tipped back into the pleasure of the blow job. He pushed Seifer’s head down and tugged it back up, matching the opposite rhythm of his hips thrusting up. 

“Motherfucker,” Squall moaned, and Seifer let his dick pop free from his mouth to duck down and lick his balls, sucking on one and then the other. Squall’s voice broke out of him in a helpless groan of pleasure. “Oh fuck!” 

Seifer stroked his tongue back up Squall’s shaft, swirling around the swollen head and the beads of pre-cum forming in the slit. Squall shuddered and pressed up into the warmth of Seifer’s mouth, wordlessly asking him to let him back in. Seifer looked up into Squall’s hazy blue gaze as he dragged his lips back down his hard, long cock.

Squall moaned again, letting go of Seifer’s hair to grip the desk and keep himself from rocking off the edge. Seifer bobbed his head forcefully, sliding Squall in and out, low noises of pleasure rumbling through his own throat, wanting to take Squall in deeper with every thrust. He sucked hard on the slit for a moment, flicking his tongue teasingly against the head, then deep throated him again, coaxing noises of ecstasy from the brunet in front of him. 

“I’m going to kick your fucking ass,” Squall muttered between moans. “I’m going to drop you on your back and fuck you with my knife to your throat.”

A surprised and approving noise escaped Seifer. Squall arched into him harder at the sound. “I’m going to make you scream in pain, SeeD, I fucking swear. You won’t remember what pleasure feels like.”

Seifer made another weak, desperate noise, sliding harder and faster as Squall thrust up into him. He reached beneath his balls to caress him, cautiously tracing his finger along Squall’s ass crack. Squall jerked hard. 

“You fucker!” Squall cursed roughly, but he shifted for Seifer to have a better reach. Seifer moaned deeply when Squall’s twitching entrance pressed against his fingertip. He stroked him firmly and felt Squall’s hand weave into his hair again. Squall hissed in tight pleasure, his body coiling beneath Seifer’s attention. One more stroke, this time pressing into the tight ring of muscles, not quite opening him, and Squall shoved Seifer’s head down hard, forcing his entire cock into his throat as he suddenly came with a sharp, suppressed shout. Hot liquid burst into Seifer’s mouth, flooding him as he swallowed hard and fast, trying to drink him down without losing anything. Another forceful, painful thrust from Squall and Seifer was coming in his own pants, breathing hard through his nose, shuddering through his orgasm with muted, panting growls of pleasure.

Squall rocked through the last waves of the blow job and slowly released his hold on Seifer’s hair, letting the other man free so he could get some air. Instead of pulling away from his cock, though, Seifer bobbed his head a few more times until Squall hissed through the oversensitivity and pulled his hips back, forcing Seifer to let go of him with a soft, wet pop.

Seifer looked up at Squall through a drunken haze, breathing heavily, his chest heaving. Squall slipped off the ledge of his desk and shrugged his pants back up his hips, pulling his zipper up just a few inches away from Seifer’s nose. Seifer grabbed his waist and pulled him closer so his leg bumped the seat of his chair. Squall settled his knee between Seifer’s thighs and pushed Seifer’s hair back gently as Seifer lifted his shirt just a few inches to lick the sweat gathering on his stomach.

“Mmm…” Seifer hummed contentedly, like he was licking something sweet.

“Did you really cum without touching yourself?” Squall asked, amused disbelief lacing his voice.

“Sorry,” Seifer chuckled, brushing his lips over the hard bumps of Squall's abs. “I couldn't stop myself.” He looked up at Squall through his lashes, eyes dark with a desire for more. “Thanks for patching me up.”

“Uh. Yeah. Anytime…” Squall muttered, watching Seifer critically, his brows drawn low, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. Seifer laughed quietly again. 

“We should have a meeting to discuss the situation here,” Seifer said suggestively. Squall raised an eyebrow. “The political situation, I mean. Over dinner, of course…”

Squall smirked a little. “Right, the political situation.”

Seifer pulled Squall down a bit so he could lean up and nip at his ear, speaking low and soft, alluring as his cheek brushed against Squall's. “I want you to take me to your bed.” 

“Are you always this reckless on the job?” Squall murmured, almost chastising, but Seifer felt him shiver. 

“No,” Seifer confessed, leaning in to kiss Squall's neck. “Don't laugh, but I haven't been with anyone in over a year.”

“Bullshit.” Squall snorted softly, but he tilted his head to give Seifer better access. Seifer laughed and moved his mouth down to Squall's collarbone, pulling aside his shirt. This stranger was so dangerous and so hard to resist, Seifer wanted more of him, wanted to push his limits until Squall lashed back. Squall murmured, “You probably use that line on-_ ahh…” _

Squall shivered again and slid his arms around Seifer's neck as Seifer dragged his tongue warm and wet along Squall's skin, following the curve of his collarbone, impossibly enticing. Seifer nipped at him, drawing a small gasp from Squall’s lips. His eyes fluttered shut and his breath hitched.

Unexpectedly, Squall pulled away, shaking his head a little to clear it as he stood up, breaking out of Seifer’s grasp. Seifer looked up at him in disappointed surprise, but then Squall leaned forward in a rush to kiss him passionately, slipping his warm tongue into his mouth possessively when Seifer gave a light growl of relief. When Seifer tried to pull him back into his lap, Squall pulled away again, this time tugging on the collar of Seifer's coat to get him to follow.

“My bedroom is upstairs…” Squall said, his voice husky and commanding.

Seifer broke out in a grin and let Squall pull him along, only slipping away momentarily to go tell Fujin and Raijin to return to the hotel and continue their duties as usual. When he returned to Squall standing next to a door that opened onto a staircase leading up to the second floor, he crossed the room quickly and swept into him, lifting him up and sucking hard on his neck, an attack without any warning. Surprised, Squall automatically wrapped his legs around his waist, then rocked his hips to grind against Seifer as he moaned and melted into the hickey, hands weaving into that blond hair again as Seifer carried him up the stairs.

He took only a brief look around Squall's neat room to find the bed, then immediately dropped Squall onto it and devoured his mouth, relishing the feel of that sharp tongue thrusting against his own, growing just as hungry as he was again, fire and blood pumping hard in him. Suddenly, Squall flipped him over with the skill and grace of a man trained to kill him, and Seifer dropped his head back, moaning deeply. In response, Squall ducked his head down and sunk his teeth into crook of Seifer's neck, making a very pleased noise when Seifer gasped and clenched his hands around Squall's hips, dragging him down to grind their hard lengths together through their pants.

“Strip,” Squall broke away and growled out in a harsh command. Seifer sat up immediately, jostling Squall who somehow maintained his balance while straddling him. He shoved his coat off, then ripped his shirt up over his head. He collapsed back again when Squall bit his shoulder, _ hard. _ Seifer's eyes fluttered shut and he pressed up into the bite. A submissive moan escaped him when Squall raked his nails down the sides of his torso.

Squall broke the biting kiss with a rough breath, sitting back to look down at Seifer through hooded lids, huffing a slight chuckle.

“Masochist.”

Seifer swallowed and cracked his eyes to look up at him, breathing just as hard as Squall was. Heat pooled in his stomach, causing his cock to throb with need. He licked his lips a little and jutted his chin up. Squall reached forward and slid his fingertips softly against his jaw, then slapped him lightly, testingly. Seifer gasped and pulled him down against his lap again, a rush of pleasure spreading through him from the slight sting of the slap.

“Want me to hurt you?” Squall asked, and the gleam in his eye caused Seifer to lunge up, capturing his mouth in a kiss. He moaned again when Squall bit his bottom lip hard, then pulled away from the kiss to slam Seifer down onto his back. He slapped him again, harder this time, and snapped at him. “Beg me.”

Seifer lunged up again and flipped Squall over on the bed, only to grunt in pained surprise when Squall countered him and threw him onto his back on the floor. In a blink, Squall was straddling him again, whipping off his own belt and binding Seifer's wrists above his head with it. 

“Hurt me,” Seifer begged instantly, lifting his hips up into Squall's ass, his voice strained and breathless. “Oh fuck, please.” 

“That's better,” Squall said, his voice a low murmur. He shifted to kneel between Seifer's spread thighs and pulled his belt off, too. For a second, Seifer wondered where else Squall was going to bind him, but then he folded the belt in his hand and leaned forward, bracing one hand beside Seifer's head as he bent down and slid his open mouth across his jaw to whisper in his ear, his breath hot and his voice a delicious, low hum. “Safe word is cocoa.”

Then Squall shifted and roughly opened Seifer's pants, jerking them down his legs before letting Seifer take over and kick them the rest of the way off. He leaned back again and whipped the belt against Seifer's inner thigh, causing him to flinch. Squall watched him intently, lifting his brow a little at the minimal response, then whipped him again, harder. Seifer made a soft grunt but otherwise seemed unfazed and Squall grinned. 

\--

Squall breathed heavily, leaning over Seifer's back, gripping his hips as they came down off their twin orgasms, still buried deep in Seifer's ass as he spent the last of his seed with Seifer twitching around him.

Slowly he pulled back and let Seifer drop into his stomach, panting hard and shivering in pain and pleasure.

"Hold on, baby, I've got you," Squall murmured reassuringly, kissing Seifer's shoulder before standing up. He helped him sit up on the edge of the bed carefully, murmuring reassuringly and stroking his hair. "Let's get in the bath, okay? I'll clean you up and then I'll make you something to eat, alright?"

Seifer clasped his hands around Squall's hips to stay balanced and nodded, closing his eyes. He felt absolutely exhausted, pain aching through his body as the adrenaline and endorphins from the very rough sex wore off. It had been the best fuck of his entire life and he felt like he could die content now.

"Seifer," Squall murmured, bending down a little to look him directly in the face. A cool wave of a cure spell washed over Seifer's body. "Baby, you okay?"

"Yeah…"

"I need you to tell me if you're feeling faint," Squall said, lifting Seifer's head with a finger curled under his chin. He studied his eyes and scanned his features.

"I'm not," Seifer reassured him, pulling him closer. Squall straightened and stepped into his space so Seifer could cuddle him. "I mean, I want to pass out to sleep now, but believe me, I can handle a lot and this is nothing."

Squall chuckled quietly and stroked his fingers through Seifer's hair. "Alright. Are you feeling up for a bath?"

"...Am I bleeding?"

"A little."

"I guess so…"

\--

Squall kissed Seifer sweetly and pulled him up, leading him to the attached bathroom. A large garden tub sat against one wall and Squall started running warm water, scanning a nearby shelf of products before choosing some Trabian bath salts infused with healing magic. He poured a couple spoonfuls in and stepped into the tub, holding his hand out to guide Seifer in after him. He sat down and leaned back, helping Seifer sit in front of him as he groaned a little.

“Good boy,” Squall murmured, lifting a handful of water and pouring it down Seifer’s back. He wasn’t bleeding badly, just a few scratches that had gone a little deeper than Squall noticed when he had let himself lose control during their session. Hyne, it had been so good. Never, never did Squall imagine he’d ever meet a man who matched him movement for movement, blow for blow in the battlefield and the bedroom. Seifer had been fierce and submissive in equal parts, getting as high off the pain as Squall got off giving it. And Squall suspected Seifer would happily be game for trying to switch roles if he wanted.

Squall finished rinsing Seifer’s back and gently pulled him back to settle against his chest. The waters were rising around their hips, a creamy blue and purple from the bath salts with silly little silver stars that would dissolve in a few minutes. It was a pretty girly salt, but it was Squall’s favorite after a battle. He’d never tell Selphie that, but he guessed she probably knew by how often he asked her to send it.

Seifer settled back against him with a relieved moan, closing his eyes when Squall’s arms wrapped around him. He settled one of his hands on Squall’s leg stretched out along his side and stroked his thigh gently, an idle movement he didn’t seem to put much thought behind. Squall reached down and pour more water over his chest, warming him up and healing him as they soaked. 

“Feel okay?”

“I feel great…” Seifer said softly, already slipping into a doze.

“Mm, you’re gorgeous, did you know that?” Squall asked, kissing Seifer’s neck. Seifer chuckled and tilted his head so he could have better access.

“Been a while since anyone’s told me.”

“That’s a shame. You’re absolutely stunning. The first time you walked into my shop, I swear time froze.”

“That’s so corny,” Seifer laughed genuinely and Squall grinned against his neck.

“But it’s true.”

"Mmm, I didn't take you for such a charmer," Seifer murmured, turning his head to slide his nose against Squall's.

"It's a special privilege since you were so good for me," Squall said, reaching down to gently tease his fingertips against Seifer's soft cock. Seifer hummed in pleasure and laid his head back on Squall's shoulder, spreading his legs a little. He made a soft noise of pain when Squall poured some water over the bright red welts on his thighs. 

Squall took in the sight of Seifer's battered body, the marks more visible in the gold bathroom lights. Scratches and belt marks covered his chest and legs, already turning purple in some places as they began to bruise. Bites and hickeys littered his neck and shoulders. Squall's favorite mark, which he couldn't see at the moment, was the bright handprint he had smacked, hard, over and over, on Seifer's ass in rhythm to his begging cries for more.

Squall wrapped his arms around Seifer against, cuddling him affectionately, his voice low and comforting. "Let me know if you want anything, okay?"

"Thanks," Seifer said quietly, still relaxed. "That was intense… I've always been the giver, not the receiver."

"Should have told me," Squall hummed a little scoldingly, kissing his temple. Seifer inhaled deeply, the epitome of contentment.

"Are you into that scene then? Bdsm? Do you do orgies or whatever?" Seifer asked carelessly, keeping his eyes closed. Squall chuckled, genuinely amused.

"No. I don't like crowds." Squall reached up for a bottle of expensive body wash and poured some on a soft cloth, then began lathering up Seifer's chest. "I don't keep a lot of company in general."

Seifer peeked one eye open and looked at Squall carefully. "Is that true?"

"Yeah. I don't like people."

"You more of a one night stand kind of man?" Seifer probed mildly.

"No," Squall chuckled again, lifting one of Seifer's arms to wash all the way down from his hand to his shoulder. "Had a steady girlfriend a few years ago that didn't work out and a guy-fling a time or two after that, but if it's really been over a year for you, I've got you beat."

"That is a terrible waste," Seifer said truthfully.

Squall gently pushed Seifer forward to wash his back and kissed the nape of his neck sweetly, breathing his question out against his skin. "What about you? Were you studying to become a priest and I just ruined all your hard work?"

"That's right," Seifer said, smiling and closing his eyes again. "You're clearly a devil who lured me into temptation."

"I hate to break it to you, but you signed up for a mercenary, not a monastery."

"Well, fuck me."

"With pleasure."

Seifer laughed and turned to capture Squall's mouth in a pleased kiss. Squall opened his lips so they could taste each other. When they parted for air again, Seifer met his eyes with a punch drunk gaze.

"What were you asking me again?"

"How you're not married off…" Squall murmured, a little hypnotized himself. Then he blinked. "You're not, right?"

Seifer laughed. "Married and completely celibate for over a year, that's me."

Squall lifted an eyebrow, clearly wanting a straight answer, and Seifer chuckled.

"Never been married, completely single, too damn busy being sent out to die for someone else's cause to find time for a fuck, forget anything more."

"You seem pretty free during whatever this mission is," Squall said wryly.

"This is barely a mission," Seifer smirked. "Did you know Winhill isn't even on most maps? Even I don't really know why the fuck I'm here, but I'm not complaining… Anymore."

"You say that, but three trexaurs suggest someone is sniffing around the area," Squall said, growing serious. Seifer frowned thoughtfully and settled back against him again.

"Yeah, that's pretty suspicious. You think it's Galbadia?"

"Probably. Send a couple overpowered monsters out to attack the town and wipe out a high number of civilians to reduce the risk of rebellion without it being traceable back to them. Trexaurs are native to Balamb, right? Either you're trying to frame then or they're trying to frame you." Squall closed his eyes and settled back in the water that was now up to their chests. 

"Lot of room for failure in that plan, especially when you've got Esthar camping out in town," Seifer mused.

"Well almost no one knows I'm Estharian," Squall said mildly. "Only two people now, and one of them is currently compromised, so I know he hasn't run off to tell anyone yet."

"Better torture him to make sure he won't dare it later."

"Oh I plan to," Squall murmured with a grin. He tilted his head and bit Seifer's earlobe, earning a shiver from the man in his arms.


End file.
